


Lightning Never Strikes Twice

by platonic_boner



Series: White Lightning [2]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Canon Era, Happy Ending, M/M, Magic Revealed, Makes way more sense if you read the prequel first
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-11
Updated: 2017-03-11
Packaged: 2018-10-02 19:13:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,826
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10225169
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/platonic_boner/pseuds/platonic_boner
Summary: Arthur lifts Gwaine’s banishment on the condition that Gwaine use his magic to save Camelot.This would be really great for all involved if Gwaine actually had magic.





	

Merlin fetches Arthur’s breakfast from the kitchens and climbs the stairs. He rests once on the way up, lightheaded from how little he’s eaten recently. Arthur’s plate is nearly as empty as Merlin’s was this morning, just a half-rotten and unidentifiable fruit and some crusty bread. On one hand, Merlin would hate to serve a king who feasted while his people starved. On the other, Merlin wishes Arthur would insist on being fed more, so that Merlin could steal his food.

When Merlin gets to Arthur’s chambers, Arthur’s already up, though not dressed, and pacing. He doesn’t acknowledge the food and doesn’t even greet Merlin before bursting into a monologue.

“We can’t survive much longer like this. Our food stores have rotted; the expendable livestock have been slaughtered and eaten already; the woods are suddenly empty of game; and the crops have wilted in the fields. It is clearly magic, and there is nothing the knights can do to stop it.”

Merlin sets down the meagre breakfast and moves to open the curtains and get out Arthur’s clothes for the day. He does so silently, not interrupting or responding to Arthur’s rant. Arthur is merely stating information they have known for days, as if repeating it over and over again will somehow lead him to a solution.

“It’s magic,” Arthur repeats. “The people are starving. We have no food for them, nor enough money to buy food from the other kingdoms indefinitely. This magic cannot be fought back except for through more magic, and so - for the sake of my people - I need to employ a sorcerer.”

Merlin trips over the stone in the floor that he’s known to avoid since his first week. He recovers himself and turns to stare at Arthur. “A sorcerer, sire?”

This isn’t completely unprecedented, of course, but what happened the last time Arthur employed a sorcerer makes it all the more shocking.

“It’s a very high risk,” Arthur allows. “But it’s the only thing I can do, isn’t it? If I hire a sorcerer, he may turn on me and kill me, just as the old man murdered my father.”

Merlin winces.

“But,” Arthur continues, “If I _don’t_ hire a sorcerer, the entire kingdom will starve and die for certain. It’s the only thing I can do,” he says, but he doesn’t sound certain. He sounds like he would jump on any alternative suggestion that Merlin made.

Unfortunately, Merlin has no other suggestions. “I agree, sire,” he says quietly. “There’s nothing else that can be done.”

Arthur nods. “There’s no time to lose. Go tell Sir Leon that he’s to assemble search parties. We need to find Gwaine as soon as possible.”

It’s fortunate that Arthur has just ducked behind his screen to dress, so he misses the way Merlin’s jaw drops.

“Sire?” Merlin squeaks. “Is Gwaine really the best, er, candidate?”

“He served Camelot honourably for years. Even if he has no love left for me after his banishment, I believe he would do the right thing for the common people. Do you disagree?” Arthur asks, emerging to look at Merlin.

Merlin can’t bring himself to disparage Gwaine, after Gwaine sacrificed nearly everything to save Merlin. “No, sire,” he says, quietly. “Gwaine would help us.”

Gwaine _would_. If he were a sorcerer.

***

Merlin convinces Arthur to let him go along on one of the search parties. He argues that he knew Gwaine well, and that Gwaine may be more likely to listen to Merlin than to one of the knights who uphold the laws that persecute people like Gwaine. Arthur argues, but eventually entrusts him to Percival and Elyan.

Merlin uses his magic to determine the right direction to find Gwaine. Once he knows where Gwaine is, it turns out to be very easy to herd the knights to go there. As they have no idea where Gwaine is, Percival flips a coin at every fork in the road, and Merlin merely enchants the coin to fall as he wishes.

When they get to a small town in Mercia, there’s no need for tricks: they all know where to look for Gwaine.

Elyan stops a passing boy. “Could you point us in the direction of the tavern?”

“That way,” the boy says, nodding down the street.

It’s fairly early in the day yet, so Gwaine is only slightly drunk. When he sees them, he lights up with delight. But Merlin caught a good glimpse of him the moment before, at the way Gwaine’s staring into his ale and his shoulders are slumped, and it’s enough to make Merlin feel horrible.

“Merlin!” Gwaine roars, rising from his seat at the bar. He comes over to them, pounds the two knights on the back and shakes their hands, and then he grabs Merlin up into a huge hug. Merlin’s feet leave the ground, and Gwaine swings him around in a circle.

“It’s great to see you, Gwaine,” Merlin says. He feels almost shy to be faced with Gwaine. Gwaine’s one of his best friends, yes, but he also sacrificed a hell of a lot for Merlin and kissed him (on the forehead, but _still_ ) and Merlin thinks maybe he’s not just a friend to Gwaine. Which is awful, because Merlin’s in love with the (completely oblivious) man who exiled Gwaine.

“What brings you to my part of the world?” Gwaine asks. His grin fades a bit and he focusses on Merlin. “It’s not..?”

Merlin remembers what Gwaine said the last time they spoke - that if Arthur were ever to banish Merlin, he should come find Gwaine, and Gwaine would buy him a drink. “No,” Merlin says quickly. “No, it’s not that.”

Elyan looks between them in confusion, then visibly shrugs it off. “Arthur’s sent us,” he tells Gwaine. “He asks your help for Camelot. The fields are cursed, Gwaine, surely you’ve heard - nothing will grow. The people are starving, and we can do nothing.”

“I’ve heard,” Gwaine says, and he looks sombre again. “And if there were anything I could do, I’d help - but I don’t know what you want me to do against this.”

“Surely there’s some spell you could use?” Elyan asks. “Or a potion?”

Gwaine’s eyebrows shoot up, then he says, “I’ll just...need a word with Merlin,” he says quickly, grabbing Merlin’s shoulder and tugging Merlin away.

“Why?” Percival asks, frowning.

“...I don’t trust you knights of the realm,” Gwaine says. “You’re probably plotting to kill me on the king’s orders. I’ll only talk to Merlin!”

Gwaine drags him away, but not before they both hear Elyan comment that Merlin is more loyal to Arthur than any other man in Albion, so what is Gwaine’s deal?

“Merlin,” Gwaine hisses, once they’re out of earshot of the knights. “There’s a very large problem with your plan, which is that _I’m not actually a sorcerer_.”

“It’s _Arthur’s_ plan,” Merlin retorts. “If he’d just asked me if I knew any good sorcerers again, I would’ve disguised myself and we’d be done by now. But no, he has to have _you_ specifically. But look - I’ll do all the magic, just _please_ come help us.”

“Of course I’ll come,” Gwaine says. “Of course I will.”

“Oh,” Merlin says. “Oh, good.”

Gwaine catches his arm when he turns to go back to the knights, though. “Merlin,” he says quietly. “How’ve you been? Arthur’s treating you well?”

“I’m fine,” Merlin says. “The usual. It’s been quieter without you.”

“I haven’t heard of it being quiet,” Gwaine says. “I’ve heard about Arthur fighting Morgana, fighting a lot of magical creatures, and nearly fighting a war. I suppose you were there for all of that? And you look _awful_ , Merlin.”

“Well, thanks,” Merlin snaps. “There hasn’t exactly been a lot to eat, lately.”

Gwaine looks him over for a long minute, and then finally he smiles. Not his usual huge boisterous, mostly drunk smile, but a quieter, more serious one. He squeezes Merlin’s shoulder and says, “Well, I better get working on a spell to fix that, then, hadn’t I?”

***

They get a good meal - the first one Merlin’s eaten in weeks - and head back to Camelot as fast as they can. It’s more than a day’s ride to the castle, though, and they end up setting up camp just inside the border. 

As Merlin is fading off to sleep, he hears Gwaine get up from beside him. No matter how tired he is, he forces his eyes to open and perks up his ears.

Gwaine goes to sit next to Percival, who’s on guard. They sit quietly for long enough that it’s a struggle for Merlin to stay awake.

“Been getting by all right?” Percival asks.

“I’m fine,” Gwaine says. “I’m always fine.”

There’s another long moment of silence. Merlin wonders if this conversation is really worth eavesdropping on, but he feels almost responsible for Gwaine now, after everything.

“I never knew you were a sorcerer,” Percival says eventually.

“Oh,” Gwaine says. “Right.”

Percival leans back against a tree. “I didn’t believe it when Arthur told us.”

“I confessed,” Gwaine says.

“That doesn’t mean you did it,” Percival says.

Merlin tries to keep his breathing under control, even though his heart feels like it’s beating out of his chest: the list of people who know his secret is already way too long, and it sounds like he might need to add Percival to it.

There’s another silence, although this time Merlin isn’t even slightly at risk of dozing off.

“I thought so,” Percival says; apparently Gwaine’s silence has confirmed his suspicions. “You’re a good friend, Gwaine. Maybe too good.”

“I couldn’t have let Merlin be banished,” Gwaine argues.

“Yeah.” Percival sighs. “But I missed you.”

***

The next day, Merlin rides beside Gwaine and far enough behind the other two knights to be out of earshot. He explains his plan to Gwaine, and then quizzes Gwaine on it repeatedly. 

“Relax, Merlin, I know the plan,” Gwaine says. “It’s really not that complicated. Why don’t we talk about something else? Have you and Arthur started doing it, yet?”

“Shut _up_ ,” Merlin says, and then kicks his horse to catch up with Percival and Elyan. (In retrospect, this may have been Gwaine’s intent.)

“I’ll take that as a no!” Gwaine calls to his back.

***

Arthur is awaiting them in the throne room, a herald having obviously brought news of their arrival.

“Gwaine,” he says. “Thank you for coming. Camelot is in great danger, and for the sake of her people, I must beseech you-”

“That’s enough,” Gwaine interrupts, to everyone’s relief. “You don’t need to beg me to help. I’d never let kids starve.”

“Thank you,” Arthur says. “What do you need to fix this?”

“I need to find the place where the original spell was cast,” Gwaine says. “For that, I need to speak to the Druids.”

“Of course,” Arthur says. “Merlin, get fresh horses for Elyan, Percival, Gwaine, and me. We’ll ride in an hour.”

“Ah, princess,” Gwaine says. “See, the Druids might not take too kindly to a group of warriors bursting in on them. It might be better if I went alone.”

“Alone?” Arthur repeats.

“Well, I might have forgotten how to get around in these parts...I’ll take Merlin, too. He can guide me. He’s very non-threatening.”

“Merlin, as a guide?” Arthur says. “Absolutely not. He can’t even find his way back to his rooms from the tavern. Besides, I can’t have Camelot’s only hope running around unguarded. I doubt the Druids will object to a small party of three warriors, especially when ending the famine is to their benefit, as well. Merlin - horses.”

Well, there goes Merlin’s plan.

*

The Druids, according to Kilgharrah, are hidden deep in the forest, where the curse’s reach has not yet spread as strongly. It takes half a day’s ride and then, when the forest gets too thick, a _very_ long walk to reach them.

“Maybe we shouldn’t all go in?” Gwaine says, hovering at the edge of the camp.

Arthur rolls his eyes and walks into the camp, his hands held high and palms out. It is night, so there are very few children out, but those few who are still awake are immediately ushered away and hidden in tents by adults. The half-dozen men sitting by the fire get up and approach Arthur, standing in a wall-like line between him and the rest of the camp.

“We mean you no harm,” Arthur says. “We are here to ask for your assistance in returning Camelot to her rightful prosperity, and her people back to health. Gwaine is a sorcerer, and he has pledged to remove the curse, but first he says he must know where it was cast. Can you tell us?”

Merlin winces at the obvious suspicion in their eyes. At least one of them is probably a sorcerer, and they will probably know Gwaine is not one. 

“Why would we know such a thing?” one of the men asks.

“Your people know more of magic than I do,” Gwaine says. “I hoped you would have noticed something.”

“If you can’t figure out where the curse started, why should we believe you can remove it? The curse is very powerful.”

“I think you already know whether I can remove it,” Gwaine says. “Will you help us, or not?”

An elderly woman pushes through the wall of men and shoves something at Gwaine - a roll of parchment? Gwaine takes it and opens it - it’s a map, with a large red X.

“Go,” the woman says. She repeats it in Merlin’s mind. _Go_.

***

They are clearly not welcome in or near the Druid camp, so even though night has long since fallen, they travel another hour before they finally settle down. They briskly make camp, and twenty minutes later, there’s a cheerful fire crackling, bedrolls set up, and food collected. Arthur throws a ladle at Merlin.

“Oh good, I’ve missed Merlin’s cooking,” Gwaine says.

Merlin finds that his ingredients are some roots and mushrooms and the scrawniest rabbit he’s ever seen. It’s going to make a very thin soup and not satisfy anyone’s hunger, but he gets to cooking it up.

Meanwhile, Gwaine challenges Percival to a wrestling match, and Arthur and Elyan make bets.

Gwaine loses badly - not as badly as Merlin would have predicted, but only because Percival seemed a bit flustered about Gwaine ripping off his shirt before the match started. Gwaine looks very cheerful about it anyways. He pats Percival on his enormous arm and says, “That was great, I haven’t had a proper match in _months_ ” - and then picks his shirt up out of the dirt and uses it to wipe the sweat off his face.

“Why learn to fight, if you’re a sorcerer?” Arthur asks. 

Gwaine puts his shirt back on - Merlin thinks Percival looks disappointed - and then shrugs. “Using magic just seems to get you into more fights,” he says.

“But you could fight with magic?” Arthur presses. “You’re powerful, right? Powerful enough to stop this curse?”

“Princess, I’m shocked,” Gwaine says. “You’ve seen my magic in action.”

Arthur nods. “Of course,” he says, presumably remembering the lightning Merlin had rained down on about thirty men, and Gwaine had taken the blame for.

Gwaine grins. “I mean, you didn’t think hair this good was _natural_ , did you?” he asks, moving his head so his hair swishes gloriously. “This takes _real_ magic.”

***

It takes another two days to get to the site marked on the Druid woman’s map.

Unfortunately, it turns out pretending to be a sorcerer is a lot harder than pretending not to be one, and two days is too long.

Part of the problem, Merlin thinks, is that Gwaine is just too charming. Even Arthur, raised to distrust magic with every fibre of his being, laughs at Gwaine’s jokes, returns his insults, and generally starts feeling comfortable around him - even though in Arthur’s mind, he’s a sorcerer.

So when Elyan says, “Gwaine, could I ask a favour?” and asks Gwaine to magically mend the stone in an old ring of his father’s that he carries, Arthur doesn’t protest.

Gwaine looks helplessly at Merlin, obviously torn between wanting to help Elyan and not actually being a sorcerer. Merlin gives him a small nod.

So Gwaine takes the ring and slowly, dramatically waves a hand over it a few times - honestly, Merlin’s a bit insulted by his showiness, that’s _not_ how sorcery is done - while Merlin whispers a few words from afar.

“Thank you,” Elyan says, looking in awe at the ring, and Merlin thinks they’ve gotten away with it, until Elyan asks, “Why don’t your eyes go gold?”

“They do,” Gwaine says. “Didn’t you see it?”

“No,” Elyan says. “I’m pretty sure they didn’t.”

“I’d do it again for you,” Gwaine says, “But I don’t want to make our princess too uncomfortable with all the magic flying around.”

Elyan shrugs. “All right. Thanks again.”

***

Alone, that would have been fine, but Merlin thinks that’s what plants Arthur’s suspicions after what comes next.

What comes next is that when they’re nearly to the curse site, they’re attacked by wyverns, and one gouges Gwaine’s stomach before Merlin can drive them off.

As the wyverns flee, Merlin drops to his knees beside Gwaine, and Arthur starts yelling. 

“Why didn’t you defend yourself?” he shouts. “Swords are _useless_ against wyverns, but that lightning spell? You could have killed them, at least driven them off!”

“Have to save my magic for the curse,” Gwaine gasps out around the pain, and Merlin marvels that he’s continuing the ruse even now.

Even now, when Merlin’s yanked his shirt out of the way - Gwaine wasn’t wearing armour; after all, he isn’t a knight anymore, thanks to Merlin - and revealed how deep the wounds go into his gut. It’s bad - an injury that not even Gaius could heal.

“Yes, because that matters now you’re going to _die_ ,” Arthur yells. He seems to realize it’s a bit of a horrible thing to say, and quiets down. “Can you heal yourself?”

“No, he can’t,” Merlin says.

“Merlin,” Gwaine says. “You don’t have to do this.”

Merlin puts his hands over the wound. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

“Merlin, what are you doing?” Arthur, uncertain, frightened.

Merlin whispers the strongest healing spell he knows, and everyone watches Gwaine’s skin knit itself together, as Merlin’s eyes turn gold.

When the wound is gone, and the colour is returning to Gwaine’s face, Merlin stands up and turns to Arthur, meets his horrified, betrayed stare.

“Arthur, please, I never wanted to lie to you,” he says. “I swear to you, I’ve only ever used it for you.”

“No,” Arthur whispers.

Merlin doesn’t know what that means. No, he hasn’t used it for Arthur? No, this isn’t happening, Arthur is going to remain in denial forever?

“I’m sorry, I never wanted to put you in this position. I won’t cause any trouble,” Merlin promises. “I’ll do the spell to end the curse, and then I’ll go. I promise.”

Merlin can normally read Arthur well, but after Arthur whispered “no”, his face shut down, and his closed-off expression and stony eyes tell Merlin nothing, except that he’s hugely upset. 

He tries not to cry. “I’m sorry, Arthur. I’m so sorry.”

“We need to get going,” Arthur says as if Merlin hasn’t spoken, not looking at anyone in particular. “There’s still a couple hours’ walk to the site of the curse. Percival, help Gwaine.”

Gwaine’s likely dizzy from blood loss - there’s a lot of his blood on his clothes, on the ground, on Merlin - but once Percival gets him to his feet, the both of them turn to comforting Merlin, who’s lost the battle against his tears.

“Look at it this way,” Gwaine says. “He didn’t even threaten to kill you! I think that went really well.”

Percival shoves a handkerchief at him.

The remaining hours’ walk is a very quiet, gloomy affair.

***

The site of the curse is a small barren clearing in the woods, surrounded by tall, mostly-dead trees. Merlin stands in the center of it, closes his eyes, and sees in his mind the curse spiralling outwards in all directions. It’s strong, but Merlin is stronger, and he pulls it out like a weed from its roots and casts it away. 

When he opens his eyes, it’s like a wave of green is travelling outwards from him - first grass sprouts in the clearing, then the trees sprout new leaves. Overhead, heavy clouds blossom and are pushed outward by unfelt winds, eager to make up for the droughts.

The knights are all staring at the rejuvenated forest and sky, but Arthur is staring at Merlin. His blank expression is gone, and Merlin quickly looks down at his boots before the awestruck look turns into anger or fear or hatred, or all three. “I’ll just be going, then?” he says, pointing in what he’s pretty sure is the direction of the nearest border.

“Try to leave, and I’ll tie you up myself,” Arthur says, and the words strike a bolt of fear into Merlin’s heart.

Before Merlin even has time to panic, or to consider whether to fight back against his arrest, there’s the sound of metal on metal as three swords are drawn and pointing at Arthur.

“What-? No!” Arthur says, quickly, waving his hands around rather than drawing himself. “I didn’t mean it like that! I’m not going to kill him! Merlin, I’m not going to hurt you!”

Does that mean…? “So I can stay?” Merlin asks. “ _And_ keep my head?”

“ _Yes_ ,” Arthur says. “In fact, I’m ordering you to. You aren’t allowed to leave. You promised to serve me forever, remember?”

“Until the day I die,” Merlin repeats softly, eyes shining.

“Exactly,” Arthur says. He reaches out a hand to Merlin, and Merlin takes it.

***

_epilogue_

On the journey back to the castle, Gwaine asks Arthur, “Hey Princess, now you’ve finally caught the _real_ sorcerer, I’m un-banished, right?” (Gwaine probably should’ve asked _before_ getting two thirds of the way to the castle, but it was very hard to break into the conversation between king and servant, though, as they were busy happily rehashing their entire history, starting from their very first meeting, and staring into each other’s eyes.) 

“I suppose so,” Arthur says. “Until the next time you get drunk and break a capital law, anyways.” He briefly falls out of step with Merlin to clap Gwaine on the back. “Welcome back, Sir Gwaine.”

Gwaine grins delightedly. Percival catches his eye and smiles back.

Merlin’s obviously still in love with Arthur, and while it’s not like Gwaine’s fallen out of love with him completely, he’s starting to think it might be a little uncomfortable to screw someone who could call lightning from the sky. And Percival is kind of adorable.

Gwaine responds to the smile with a wink.

Percival blushes and smiles wider, and Gwaine knows he’s going to be happy to be home again.


End file.
